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<title>Of Writer's Block and Mario Kart by The_Alias (Artemis_Day)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311452">Of Writer's Block and Mario Kart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Day/pseuds/The_Alias'>The_Alias (Artemis_Day)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Drunk!Bucky, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2020, bewildered!Jane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:35:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Day/pseuds/The_Alias</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane has nothing to do one Halloween night. Then someone knocks on her door...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Jane Foster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Writer's Block and Mario Kart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you all have a good one regardless of the circumstances. </p><p>Bucky Barnes Bingo Square K3: Roommate AU<br/>Ladies of Marvel Bingo Square E4: "Does playing Mario Kart drunk count as drunk driving?"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jane stared at the blinking cursor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was mocking her. Taunting her for having nothing better to do on Halloween night than sit in her apartment alone with writer’s block.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worst part was that she could’ve had something to do if she’d taken Darcy up on her invitation to that Halloween party. She only hadn’t because she thought she had enough inspiration and caffeinated beverages in the pantry to finish the next three pages of her thesis (the caffeine part was true, at least). Also because Darcy’s main selling point had been, ‘Bucky Barnes will be there.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because of course, ever since Jane let it slip that she maybe kind of sort of had an itty bitty crush on the college boxing champ, Darcy had been single-mindedly obsessed with getting them alone and mashing their faces together. As if a borderline famous college idol like him, who was probably surrounded by men and women throwing themselves at him daily, would be interested in some random astrophysics major.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that Jane was down on herself, she was just realistic. Crushing on Bucky Barnes was no different than wanting to marry Orlando Bloom when she was ten. Not everyone could get hot, star athlete boyfriends and it was about time Darcy realized she was the exception, not the rule.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, that was all irrelevant to the Einstein-Rosen bridge theory, so Jane put it out of her mind and went back to writing and deleting the same sentence over and over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around ten minutes to twelve, someone knocked on the door. It had been an hour since the last trick-or-treater had come by, and Jane wasn’t expecting any more tonight. The knocking continued until Jane couldn’t ignore it anymore. Sighing, she stretched her tired bones and sat up. Her phone on the dresser had ten missed texts. All from Darcy. All different variations of ‘We’re doing (insert ‘fun’ thing here) now! You gotta come down!!!!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane walked to the front door and checked the peephole. She couldn’t see anyone, and by now, the knocking had stopped. Maybe they’d finally given up? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eh, she’d better check anyway. Making sure the chain was firmly in place, Jane unbolted the door and turned the knob.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky Barnes was on the other side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned all of his one hundred and ninety-five pounds (okay so she kept track of his weigh-ins, sue her) against the door. The metal chain jerked and she was pretty sure those cracks under the track hadn’t been there a second ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck…” Bucky mumbled, his voice deeper than usual. “Fuuuuuck…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Jane stumbled back, not knowing if she should slam the door shut or open it wide. “Mr. Barnes? Bucky? Should I call you that… uh, are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was wearing a red and white coat, probably some kind of costume. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was a mess. One arm stuck through the door at an awkward angle, and the way he was sliding to the floor, he was likely to dislocate something. Jane closed the door as much as she could without hurting him and managed to work the chain out of the track. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door burst open, and now Bucky Barnes was in her living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck…” he said again. “Where am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he talking to her or the wall? It was hard to tell. “Uh, you’re in my apartment… I’m Jane, and this is my apartment…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jane?” He tried to lift his head, but his eyes were completely unfocused. “Darcy is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not here,” Jane supplied. “She’s at a party in… I don’t actually know where it is, but she won’t be back for a while if you wanted to see her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was telling the truth,” he said, rolling on his back with a loopy smile. “That’s good…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made no sense. Told him the truth about what? Where she lived? What was he even doing here?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane had already figured out he was drunk. It was kind of hard to miss. When he tried to sit up, he fell on his side. When he tried again, he landed on his stomach. All the while, he mumbled unintelligibly to himself about this and that and whatever athletes talk about when they’re drunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me,” Jane said, hurrying to his side. He barely reacted when she reached around his waist and tried to pull him up. It was a bit like trying to lift a boulder (seriously his whole body felt like iron) and after a full minute of trying to budge him, Jane sunk to her knees, panting and completely out of breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jane…” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Jane gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked over her head, perhaps at her double. “This is your apartment…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jane repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in Jane’s apartment,” he said. Something like a smile formed. “I’m in Jane’s apartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you are.” She sat up once her heart was no longer in her ears. Steeling herself, she went for his shoulders. “Look, I know this is hard, but I can’t move you on my own. I’m going to count to three, and then I want you to try your best to stand up, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>More mumbling. Good enough.</span>
  <span>“One… two...  thr-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky stood up. It took him all of a second and he didn’t stumble once. He did drag Jane fully off her feet. She yelped and let go, smacking into a wall that seemed to appear behind her. Any idea of Bucky’s miraculous recovery died when he hit two end tables and tripped over a rug on his way to the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s better,” he said, flopping down on it and rubbing his head. “Fuck, this hurts… do you think playing Mario Kart drunk counts as drunk driving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane blinked. Wasn’t she just doing homework five minutes ago? “Uh… I don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to get arrested in your apartment. You might not want me back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a lot of ways Jane could take that, but the only one she’d entertain was normal drunken rambling. Because clearly, that was all this was. Or maybe he was mistaking her for another Jane. Sure, they had that one class together two years ago, but they never really spoke. If he knew her at all, it was just as Darcy’s roommate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want anything?” Jane asked, walking backward to the kitchen. “Something to drink? Some painkillers? I have Tylenol and ibuprofen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thanks,” he muttered through his hand. “‘S not that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sure looked bad. If he was wandering into strange houses on Halloween night while drunk off his ass, something was seriously wrong. Ignoring his assertions, Jane filled a glass with cold water and grabbed the Tylenol bottle. In the fridge was an unopened bottle of V8. That might be helpful, too. Carrying them to the living room, she found Bucky exactly where she left him. She now saw his jacket had a hood on it, like something out of Assassin’s Creed. It looked good on him. Really good. Even wasted, he just had to be sexy as hell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have Mario Kart?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry no, I’m not much of a gamer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” he said, rubbing his eyes so hard she feared they would bleed. “Don’t play video games drunk. ‘Specially with other drunk people. Bad idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jane chuckled. She reached for her phone. “Do you want me to call someone for you? Darcy should still have her phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, no Darcy,” Bucky groaned. He winced like he was in pain and only then did Jane realize she had a light on right next to his face. “I came to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane, hurrying to shut the light, stopped short, and stared at him. “You what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanted to see you,” he replied. “Should’ve come sooner, but fucking Dugan was all ‘just one drink, buddy. One drink and one game.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed to think that was enough of an explanation. For the next few minutes, he grasped for the water Jane left on the end table and tried to drink it without spilling more than half the glass. That was, however, not the end of the conversation. Not by a long shot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean you wanted to see me?” she asked. “Do you know where you are right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your apartment,” he replied. “Jane’s apartment. I’m here and I’m drunk. I should be humiliated, but my brain is too numb right now. I’ll bash my head in for this tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t,” Jane said, kneeling before him. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t think I’m who you think I am-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jane Foster. Astrophysics. Top of the class. Fucking brilliant…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rattled it off like he was studying for a test. All in the same bland, heady intonation. His eyes were the tiniest bit more focused and had landed precisely on her face. A face which was no doubt even redder than his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… you know me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course,” he said. “I go to your conferences. They’re amazing like you. Not pretty like you, though. Those guys look like toe fungus and you look like a goddess.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Jane tried to speak, but her throat was dry. Luckily, he kept going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darcy says I should stop being a pussy and ask you out. She’s right, but then I think ‘Jane is a genius and I’m an average joe, so why bother?’ Then those assholes on the football time wanted to play drunk Mario and so I left. Fuck ‘em. They’re idiots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You walked here </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the way from that party?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well yeah,” he said. “Party’s three houses down. Didn’t you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, but that explained why Darcy was so adamant about getting her to come down. Actually, it explained a lot of things, but also not enough things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This cannot be real,” Jane muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish,” Bucky moaned. “Would love to wake up at home and not being a drunk douchebag in front of Jane. She probably hates me now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jane breathed, shaking her head even though he couldn’t see her. “No, she doesn’t hate you at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Positive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned on his side, muttering something like ‘tha’s good’ and closing his eyes. The next thing out of his mouth was a snore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane stared at him for the longest time, waiting for him to wink out of existence or get back up and realize he’d made a mistake. While she waited, she draped a blanket over him and moved a few tables and chairs aside in case he had to run to the bathroom. She grabbed her notebook and laptop out of her room and settled on the loveseat across from the couch. Doing her homework was significantly more challenging with Bucky Barnes sleeping two feet away after making what was essentially a drunken love confession, but Jane had worked under far more stressful conditions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Okay no she hadn’t, but if she kept telling herself that, maybe she’d start believing it.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time morning rolled around, Jane had gotten almost nothing done. At some point, she fell asleep, spreading her legs over the armrest so as not to wake up aching all over. Bucky had remained on the couch, asleep and snoring until the moon sunk below the trees and the sun rose to take its place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane was in the kitchen pouring herself a glass of milk when she heard him groan. The couch creaked as he thrashed around seeking purchase. He knocked the empty glass off the coffee table, but finally got his hands on it and pulled himself up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my head…” he moaned, squinting at the light pouring in from the windows. “Where the hell…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking all around, his eyes landed on Jane. She stood in the kitchen, glass in hand, not sure if she should wave or smile or say good morning. She settled for staring awkwardly back until the veil over his eyes lifted and they fell out of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit,” he hissed, scrambling backward. “Shit. Shit, what the hell is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wandered over here last night,” Jane said helpfully. “From the party? I don’t know how much you remember-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember dreaming that I was in your house and drunkenly declaring my love for you,” he said, and he might have still been a little out of it if his lips were so loose. “I have a horrible feeling that wasn’t a dream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it wasn’t in so many words, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane didn’t know how to finish that sentence, and Bucky didn’t seem to know how to start one. For the longest time, there was nothing but silence. Silence and the cars speeding by out the window. Birds sang and the couple next door were arguing, as they often did. So many little sounds Jane had always dismissed as white noise. Now they were just about the only thing keeping her grounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” she said, “you want some breakfast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach rumbled at her words, though his face turned green. “I’m a little too hungover for that. Can I have a glass of water?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane took the old glass off the floor and filled a new one. Together they sat in the living room, Bucky sipping his water, Jane expending all her willpower not to dive headfirst into his eyes. The couple next door had made up and moved on to watching loud action movies with the windows open. The cars were still running and he still wasn’t talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” Jane said again, and it was quickly becoming her least favorite word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking last night, coming over here and bothering you. I have no excuse, I just hope you can forgive me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not mad,” Jane said, perhaps a little too insistently. He didn’t look at all convinced. “I was surprised, yeah, but I’m just glad you didn’t hurt yourself or get into trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never do stuff like this,” he mumbled through his hands. “I really don’t, but my last fight was a week ago and I don’t start training for the next one until the new year, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to justify yourself to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t I? I ruined your Halloween.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My Halloween was sitting in an empty room surrounded by numbers,” Jane laughed. “Kind of like every other day of my life. If anything, you made my night more interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mumbled under his breath. Jane couldn’t hear the words but she imagined they were as self-loathing as ever. The very thought made her heart twist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, if you want to make it up to me,” she said, steeling her nerves, “maybe we can get some lunch later? Have a nice November 1st together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucky stared at her. “November 1st isn’t a holiday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can be one for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it felt like she was saying too much, Bucky’s red cheeks and faint smile soothed her fears. It grew into a grin as he sat up straighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that sounds good,” he said, lifting his glass. “Happy November 1st.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane grinned back and raised hers. “Happy November 1st.”</span>
</p>
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